


when you love someone; pdj

by arrowthroughtheheart



Series: song-fics [3]
Category: The Rose (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Classical Music, Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Inspired by Music, Musical References
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-20
Updated: 2019-04-20
Packaged: 2020-01-20 18:27:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18530653
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arrowthroughtheheart/pseuds/arrowthroughtheheart
Summary: It was a really hard day todayMy heart aches for youThe only thing I can do for youIs to be next to you, I’m sorry





	when you love someone; pdj

**Author's Note:**

> henlo i wrote this for the precious miss multistan, yk who you are;)  
> IT GOT A LITTLE LONG THO I DIDN'T PLAN IT TO BE THAT LONG SORRY  
> pls don't be bored uwu ily<33333
> 
> inspired by day6's 그렇더라고요

It was written in your stars, to be honest. It’s a thing you can’t exactly  _ escape _ , for since the beginning of time the parents who had you planned out your life on a piece of paper,  _ supposedly.  _ What else can explain the crazy schedules, the non-stop nagging you’d hear when you take a little bit if break--what else can explain those?

To be really honest with you,  _ nothing _ .

Both of your parents are musicians; those that take interest strictly on classics, though, as they view anything other than classics as ‘straying away’ from the holy light that are; classics. “There’s a reason why they call them classics, young one,” your father would always tell you, earning him a snort from yourself as you don’t take interest in believing whatever twisted doctrine they believe in. It doesn’t really matter.

It’s not like they stop you from going outside, wanting you to be locked inside--or whatever.

You were just extremely busy that you think you’re about to lose your mind.

Of course, they’re not going to let  _ that  _ happen either.

Which leads you to;  _ Dojoon _ .

* * *

 

Oh god, no. It’s not that your  _ parents  _ decided that you should be led to Dojoon. The kid from the house next door; with a family of completely different beliefs, anyways--it’s just  _ music _ , they’re so weird--and your parents would rather die than let you near any of his family members.

You guessed once that it was more than just music, but you never actually gathered up the courage to ask your parents about it. You don’t want your head flying away just  _ yet. _

But they did resort in making you help your grandparents at their music store for a change of ‘playtime hour’. Which you almost denied, since, why would you voluntarily help? Your entire life is filled with musical notes and instruments, you feel like you breathed them instead of oxygen. But remembering that your beloved grandma has a soft spot for you; her genius, and not to mention, one and only grandchild--you agreed to this offer.

Which results in… good things.

At least, good things for a short  _ while _ .

You remembered exactly how you first met him, sadly, since it was not a great memory to be replayed over and over again whenever you lay your eyes on him.

Wrong first impressions are just, simply,  _ great _ , aren’t they?

 

It was the first day of some holiday, which you don’t remember. But what you  _ do  _ remember is going home way too early for your liking. You did say your grandma has a soft spot for you, but the more work hour means the more you have to actually  _ do  _ things related to the music and less to just eating great homemade food while watching some Kid-Shows you never watched as a kid on their TV.  _ You really love their TV. _

It has the feel of the 80s somehow, and to be fair it  _ is  _ an old TV that they never fixed and you have to either kick it or shake it for a bit before it actually works for you, but you could care less. You’ll take every last bit of happiness you can get before you have to return to your boring, white, and empty bedroom again, your only source of entertainment being your old violin on the corner of your room.

Weirdly enough, you were allowed to watch the TV for a bit while your grandma goes out to buy food; and even though your well-mannered self was feeling bad about her having to go out alone, she insisted she’ll be fine. You just needed to be on the lookout for anyone entering, which wasn’t such a hard job to do. Sure, you’re a little anti-social to people you just met but--you’ll be fine.

In the middle of a  _ Full House  _ episode, though, there’s a familiar and all-to-boring sound of the piano. It was calming, and… soft, if that’s how you want to describe it. Even you never find yourself playing the piano with that much  _ emotion _ , and the song doesn’t help in making you squint your eyes, looking at the TV in front of you. It’s not from the TV, you concluded, as the memories of your grandma asking you to keep looking out for people dropping by to their store rush back into your panicked brain.

You scrambled on your feet, making sure the rest of your clothes are presentable to look at by someone you’re going to meet before you actually stumbled out of your grandparents’ living room, glancing up to find a guy sitting on top of the piano seat, calm and silent as his fingers dance upon the black and white keys. There’s something different about it. There’s something different about  _ him. _

You call yourself an observer most of the times, since you really do like observing people and breaking through their walls without having to actually talk to them. Which doesn’t always work, of course, since some people peel their layers slowly when you  _ actually  _ start talking to them; but you always find yourself enjoying being the observer. 

And this guy; he’s different than yourself.

You played the way they want you to play. Graceful, like a hummingbird that moves really fast without looking like they put any force into their movements;  _ silent _ , and cold--if you’re allowed to put any description to the way you do things. Even though you both have the same basics covered, this guy plays with a little bit much force everytime he gets a little bit too into the song. It doesn’t sound like he’s giving it much force, though, and it took you awhile to figure out what it is.  _ Passion _ , isn’t that what they call it?

What the teachers drilled into your head about music in school.  _ Isn’t this your passion? If you’re so passionate about it, you’re not trying hard enough. _

You never got to figure out what passion meant until today, maybe, and you’re still not sure about what it means on dictionary. Maybe you should look it up. Yeah. Maybe.

It was calming for a while, for a short while; until your brain started to wonder why this guy sitting in your grandparents’ store feels so familiar to you, and you weren’t about to brainstorm every guy you’ve ever met in the middle of your  _ supposed  _ shift. 

That is, until a hand tapped your shoulder, and you turned around to see your grandpa, who smiled at you from his wheelchair. You went to help him push his wheelchair forward, of course, but not until he managed to say,  _ “Park Dojoon, nice to see you. Where have you been? It’s been very lonely without you here.” _

Your brain went dead for a few minutes.

You labeled yourself as someone who doesn’t follow your parents’ way of life, of course, that’s why you’re still friends with a lot of your school friends outside from your region of study; but you’d never want your parents to know that. They’ll rip you away from your school that you’re already comfortable with to move elsewhere, and that’s not exactly fun. Dojoon, however, once again the total opposite of who you are; respects his parents’ view on other people. Though it is possible that his family are the ones that was hurt by yours, you didn’t ever think about that whenever Dojoon would tease you to no end--verbally, usually at school, since he doesn’t want to  _ hurt  _ you for real, and even though it’s usually subtle things like the topic of her family’s strict music taste, you can’t help but feel like Dojoon is attacking  _ you  _ personally.

And you did not take a good interest at that.

Not to mention the fact that everytime your school would ask for you to perform, him and a couple of his friends would come together to play songs that your weak ears can’t take, but sadly enough have to go through since no one is allowed to leave the auditorium until everyone presents what they prepared for, and this usually leads to Dojoon giving you those weird smirks and raised eyebrows, topped with the fact that people usually gave them a standing-ovation. 

It hurts to admit how talented he is, and  _ no _ , it’s not because he’s the son of the family next door that your own family  _ foolishly  _ hate so much. It’s because of all those things he did to you, and you’re not one to back out of a challenge.

“Ah, Dojoon here is like my own grandson, he visits our store and help around before you decided to help out,” your grandpa says, and you inwardly thank him for explaining before you felt the need to ask and sound  _ rude.  _ “Oh,” you choked out, not meaning for the first word from your sentence would sound  _ that  _ condescending. Dojoon’s defenses went up as soon as you made an attempt to speak, so you just went along with your mood. “I know who he is.”

“Really?” he replies, sooner than you expected. It caught you off-guard a little bit, since your rivalry with each other has never been made public or official. You two just liked to glare at each other from across the hallway, walked right into each other so the weaker one that day could just tumble over their own feet, and were always just the kids everyone feared so much. Dojoon opened his mouth to continue, and you knew better than to wait and listen to his insults, now fresh and obviously pointed at you unlike all those songs he performed about how much of a loser you are and all those poems you made about how living wild and free is not always the best answer.

“Sadly, I don’t know who you are, so you might not be that relevant in my life.”

Ah.

The finger to your trigger; relevancy.

The finger to any musician’s trigger, to be honest, especially the ones who have been preparing all their life to become one, like themselves. Of course they make music for themselves, and of course they have fun doing it, but do they know any  _ other  _ way to survive? Without music?

It’s not that they don’t admit to not having a certain amount of arrogance, because to be honest, everyone that produces things do. They want people to appreciate their hard work and talent, and in your and your friends at school’s case; you want to live off your talent and hard work.

_ How dare Dojoon pull this on you, on your first meeting? _

“I would rather not be appreciated than only being appreciated because of how I look,” you paused for a moment, tilting your head to better take a look of his offended eyes. “ _ Dojoon _ , was it?”

 

It was, as you would’ve thought, the start of the Cold War turning into  _ public  _ Cold War turned into… just a literal war.

It didn’t help that Woosung--your older cousin--is also a part of Dojoon’s  _ band _ , or so they call themselves these days since they’ve done a lot more than just school shows now, or whatever. Why does it not help, you might be wondering to yourself?

“Everything fine with you and Dojoon?” he asked one day, eyes fixed on his phone through his glasses resting on the bridge of his nose calmly, and it almost made you snap your neck towards his direction. Thankfully, though, you got a grip of yourself before you showed any  _ obvious  _ reactions.

“There’s  _ anything _ … with me and Dojoon?”

Woosung snickered, made an eye-contact with you before raising his eyebrows. “Is it not obvious from the subtle flirting you both have made towards each other from your not-so-subtle lyrics?”

“Woosung, what lyrics are there to be subtle from- I write  _ music notes.  _ If you think  _ anyone  _ is subtly flirting, it must be someone who has words in their songs,” you remember lifting your shoulders nonchalantly while Woosung laughed, the hardest he has ever laughed in front of you. It made your eyes went wide, looking at him, puzzled.

“E-excuse me?”

“Just admit it, cousin. You’re taking interest in my friend but you’re just denying it because you came from a weird family--I don’t blame you on not knowing how to reciprocate feelings since, I don’t think your family knows how to feel feelings,” he nudged your side, and it made you punch him with your couch’s pillow softly. “Woosung, is your entire circle of friends this mean? There’s nothing to reciprocate if all he feels towards me is the thirst of murder. I don’t want to join Dojoon in jail.”

Woosung gasps, picking up his discarded  _ leather jacket.  _

Yes, Woosung is  _ that  _ kid. It amazed you how your parents still let him into your house as he’s literally the definition of ‘that cousin will drag you into nasty things and leave you behind,’ but you’re quite happy about it.

“There’s definitely a thirst but I can assure you it’s not to kill,” Woosung winked, avoiding another pillow flying in the direction of his face as he, as you can assume, smiled victoriously. That little shit. “Oh come on. You know my parents would never come to see me do my thing and now  _ you  _ won’t even watch? Just one song,” he said, trying to use his convincing mom voice on you. “If you don’t like it you can just run home, since  _ I  _ won’t be driving you anywhere else if you’re not feeling any of my songs,” Woosung continued, trying to humour with the situation.

“Not my fault you went against our family’s mandate,” you cackled, already on your way to stand up when you saw Woosung’s eyes lit up. “What  _ mandate _ ? Your parents are just  _ weird _ , bitch.”

You jabbed your hand onto Woosung’s shoulder as he ran away from you, making sure that you’re actually following him out to his motorbike, though, as he hand you a helmet. “Nice choice, cousin. Maybe I can help you to not turn your life into a bundle of mistakes, after all.”

 

Thanks to Woosung and his mom-like convincing voice, of course, you ended up staying at the bar he and his friends; including Dojoon, sadly enough--performed at. It wasn’t as horrible as you thought it would be, since; one, Dojoon can’t really  _ see  _ you and be a bitch about your existence, and two, you just did Woosung a favor. It wasn’t much, but, you felt like you took a slight burden off your cousin’s shoulder for being an emotional support for him since he never really got any from his other family members.

Of course not.

He’s considered rebellious-- _ depressed _ , even. You don’t really know if Woosung’s parents labeled him as a troubled kid knowing exactly that they’re the roots of his problems, but they refused to talk to him while still funding his college studies. Weirdly enough. However embarrassed they are of their son, they’re even more embarrassed if their son doesn’t get the proper education he should have.

It was considerably a great night, until they decided that they should take a 5-minutes-break, of course, which sent you into a rush of uncomfortable anxiety when Woosung walked over to you, his eyes a little bit more dead than usual as he slumped over the table you sat in front of. “I’m sad,  _ bro _ .”

_ Oh no _ , you thought to yourself. The ‘bro’ came out.  _ He’s drunk. _

“Why, though?” you let your eyes scatter throughout the dim-lighted room, trying to find at least one person who would break this soft boy’s heart. 

“If you’re looking for a pretty girl, you’re wrong, you know?” you heard a familiar voice from behind you as you turned around, squinting an eye to figure out who was the person coming up to you and a drunk Woosung. “Why is that?” you replied anyway, not in a mood to be rude.

Dojoon came out from under the shadows into the still not-so-bright lamp right above your seat, a tiny smirk was decorating his lips. But it wasn’t filled with mockery, or anything that one time. It was making you feel different things and all of them at once, and you were not about to randomly catch feelings. No. You weren’t there yet that time.

“Because he doesn’t  _ like _ pretty girls,” Dojoon continued, pulling a chair out for himself and you moved away a little bit to give him space. “Maybe that’s why he doesn’t take interest in  _ you _ , huh? I wonder why you still hang around him so much, though,” he said. That sentence would usually get your defenses up, since it’s coming from Dojoon and that his assumptions were just plain out wrong; but the tiny tinge of sadness in his voice made your heart beats for a different reason. What is  _ wrong  _ with you that day?

“Ew,” you chuckled, and his eyes flickered up to met yours. “Gross. Woosung’s my cousin, that’s disgusting.”

You swore to yourself that you needed to get your eyes checked that day, since you saw Dojoon’s eyes lit up, even only the tiniest bit, before he nodded, leaning back into his chair to observe your face from that comfortable distance.

Your pink was tainted pink from the warmth the alcohol gave you, which explained that you weren’t as drunk as Woosung yet but not completely sober either--which again, is new for you, since your parents are not the type to let you out and about partying with  _ alcohol.  _ Your hair was still slightly messy from using the helmet Woosung gave you, and the subtle glitter on your eyelids were just the perfect cherry on top.

“Why are you looking, hm?” slipped out of your mouth before you were able to stop them, and you were expecting Dojoon to get all defensive and you would fight normally again.

That, sadly, didn’t happen.

“I’m simply observing.”

“Fine,” you rolled your eyes, sparing Woosung a short glance to make sure he’s drunkly asleep and not record any of these conversations secretly. But it’s Woosung, you will never know. “Why are you  _ observing _ ?”

Dojoon’s head tilted to the side, his nose scrunched when he let out a nice and soft laugh, which made your heart thundered inside your rib-cage.  _ How drunk are you right now? _

“Can I not appreciate the beauty in front of me?”

 

That night you; with the help of Dojoon and his flirting skills--got something you’ve never expected on yourself, to put it simply.

But you’re not complaining. In all honesty, you really were not the one who complained.

You knew you were the type of person to take everything to heart, and honestly that is one of the many reasons why you never maintained a steady relationship with anyone. Anyone or any _ thing _ , since even your inanimate object friends seem to leave you behind after their first month of being your cuddle buddy; like that one squirrel plushie you were so in love with, before it went away somewhere you’ll never see again.

The same goes with Dojoon and his kisses.

_ Well, that happened. _

There was no explaining what happened when Dojoon had your legs wrapped around his hips as he pushed you against the wall, your brain still hazy from all the things going straight at you, and there’s no explaining why you didn’t push him away. There was also the tiny little voice in your head complaining about why you didn’t push him away, that you’re going to be a bad person if you blame all of this on the alcohol when you wake up the next morning.

And that you did.

You’re a bad person.

* * *

  
To this day, you still regret what came out of your lips. 

You didn’t mean it that way. You’re sure of yourself that you didn’t mean it that way. But it looks like you  _ did,  _ to Dojoon--the one who was trying so hard on making you say that what happened the night before as you two left Woosung on their waiting room happened because you  _ felt  _ something. Because he clearly  _ does,  _ he said, almost with tears in his eyes.

But you were never good with relationships. You were never good with being responsible of your own feelings, especially if you only let it show accidentally.

You regret continuing to shake your head, and you regret making him feel as guilty as he did. 

Woosung was wrong. He wasn’t able to help you live a life free of mistakes, but then again it wasn’t his fault. It was your fault, mostly, and ultimately. There’s no pointing fingers to other people now, and even though you don’t like it, you’re supposed to be responsible for it.

 

You let your fingers dance upon the keys of the piano, eyes zoning out on the distance as you hear the sound of the door closing harshly behind you. You didn’t move, not until you hear the sound of your grandpa coming up to the door behind you, and his silent gasp that follows. “Woosung? You’ve grown so much!”

You turn around in shock.

Woosung? Around his family member that is not  _ you _ ?

“Ah, grandpa, nice to meet you, too! I’ve been quite busy nowadays, I’m really sorry for not being able to visit as often,” he replies, running a hand through his curled and messy hair, returning the hug your grandpa gave him. “It’s fine, Dojoon told us that much. You must be here to see your cousin over there, huh?”

Woosung’s eyes falter upon you, and his expression turns into that of a scolding mom, even though you know Woosung will never be that harsh on you. He hums as a reply to his and your grandpa before bowing swiftly, making his way to the piano you’re sitting on.

“Please, Dojoon is  _ miserable _ ,” he starts off almost as soon as possible, and your eyebrows furrowed, looking behind you to see your grandpa walking away. “What- you came to see me and the first thing you say without any intro whatsoever is ‘Dojoon is miserable’? And why should I care?”

“Don’t pull this on me, I know you’re not some kind of unreasonable drama main-character that you absolutely can not reason with. We all know something is  _ really  _ up with the two of you and now you did something to break his heart?” Woosung ends his sentence unsurely, his face scrunching up to figure out what else he would scold you with. “It’s almost also your fault that something  _ did  _ happen,” you reply, raising an eyebrow at him, thinking you’ve win.

“Well, yeah, but we all thought that if you two would fuck than everything will be sorted out,” Woosung deadpans, looking straight into your eyes.  _ The only straight thing he has ever done. _

You cursed yourself inside since Woosung has a nice point, but you only groan in reply to his amazingly accurate comment on your relationship professionality. Didn’t see him comment on it? Well that’s because it doesn’t exist. You’re not a professional at all.

“It’s okay,” he says again, out of nowhere, sitting in front of you as soft as he can. You can tell he’s trying to not scare you off. Woosung’s hand tucked your hair behind your ears, a smile easing their way up onto his facial structure. “You don’t have to have a smart answer all the time. Just tell me what’s in your heart about that big idiot,” and this made you crack up, covering your mouth as you laugh at how Woosung sees Dojoon.

“Oh, come on. Dojoon is everyone’s big idiot,” he continues, eye crinkling up in a smile. “So…?”

 

“I’m… scared, Woosung. I feel like all of these are just way too fast for me since- he’s never exactly been  _ nice _ to me, and there’s my mean comments about him a few days before I see him playing with you and shit went down, and then there’s our families just not getting along; and then out of nowhere he told me he has feelings for me,” you stopped, looking outside of the window for a second. “I’d be lying if I said I have none, and that’s exactly what I did. I lied.”

“I think it’s just that you have a different point of view about how he looks at you,” Woosung says carefully, making sure that you didn’t get a whiplash from how fast your head snapped up to look at him. “Huh? How else am I supposed to look at it? That’s why it’s called  _ my  _ point of view,” your grin is filled with guilt when Woosung sighs. “No?”

“I’m just saying, if you can only see things from his point of view, you’d understand why he might not think it’s all happening too fast.” 

“C-care to elaborate on what you’re saying?” you don’t exactly want to know, since this morning, even when you’re still filled with unexplained regret, you have made it your decision to not pursue a relationship when your career is still a big question mark. But as you said earlier, Woosung has a convincing mom-voice, and now you’re being swayed from your original plan.

“See, you might not see things as ‘nice’, but maybe you’re just too sensitive about things?” Woosung starts, and before you can open your mouth to protest, he pushes the palm of his hand on top of your mouth, eyebrows furrowed. “ _ Listen _ . You might be offended because of a few sentences in our songs he wrote that describes you perfectly, but have you ever listened carefully to the rest of the song? I literally almost gag every time he made a new song that is filled with your handprint on every lyrics, because it’s just  _ weird,  _ so sometimes I compromised by making my own lyrics on my part.”

“They’re all sappy love songs and all you ever heard or get insulted about is that one line that describes who you are perfectly,” Woosung cackles, leaning away from your confused eyes. “Why did Dojoon even like you this much, I’ve never figured it out.”

“He even plays while  _ looking  _ at you sometimes- oh my god, why are you this blind?” he continues, standing up from his seat beside you before taking off his shoes, on his way to come inside your grandparents’ living room. “Well, I’ve laid out all the facts for you. It’s now up to you to do your own thing about it, but, you can think about it at home. I’m gonna help with the store, screw off.”

You frown, your eyes almost filled with tears from the overwhelming amount of emotions you’re going through right now. “B-but… home? I don’t want to go-”

“I didn’t specify  _ whose _ ,” you heard Woosung’s voice again from the living room, and you sprang out of your seat, eyes lit up in hopes of fixing your mistakes. Your cousin is a genius. “Dear god, I really love you sometimes,” you laugh, picking up your shoes while running outside the door. The glass door hasn’t really closed behind you yet, but you don’t mind. Woosung is going to sit on the front desk a few moments after you leave, and there’s no way that heavy glass door won’t make a sound if anybody walks in.

You thank Woosung internally for giving you a chance to make things right with that  _ Dojoon  _ boy, but as soon as you’re all set to go, you heard a loud  _ crash _ .

Your shoulder lifted up in reflex as you look back at the music store, a chill went up to your spine. And then, Woosung’s familiar panic-filled voice rang loud, like a dart piercing through your ears.

_ “Grandma!” _

  
  


“I’ll be fine, grandpa, home isn’t that far from here, you know?” you say, smiling, with your eyes fond and a tiny smile drawn on your face. “Are you sure? I don’t want your father to murder me right after I move to the nursing home,” your grandpa cackles, still clutching the framed picture of your late grandma on top of his chest while the staffs from the nursing home pushes his wheelchair along the rocky park in front of their closed music store, now empty and quiet.

Woosung let out a cynical laugh behind you, and you managed to roll your eyes a few moments before you shake your head. “I’ll make sure he won’t. Will  _ you  _ be okay, grandpa?” you ask, your eyes fluttering momentarily to the framed picture and the house all of you are leaving behind. “I don’t… want you to feel lonely.”

“Ah, calm down,” Woosung replies, hugging the old man’s shoulder lovingly. “I’d visit the nursing home often. Besides, I don’t really have that much to do and I don’t like being cooped up at home, either.”

Both you and your cousin waved goodbye to the car going to the distance, a sigh leaving both of your lips. “Well,” Woosung rummages through his pocket, shoving the key to the house onto your hands. This made you tear up again, your hand quickly flying up to your face to hide the embarrassing tears that are about to flow down your cheeks. “Oh, don’t cry,” Woosung engulfs you in a hug, petting your head softly. “I’m sure grandma would love to have her house taken care of by you. Besides, if I’m the one who’s supposed to visit grandpa all the time, I can’t be here constantly making sure that this house is fine,” he smiles at your  _ presumably  _ happy tears as you nod.

“I’ll give you a few minutes, then. If you want to, you know…” he nods at the house behind you. “Reminisce.”

“I’ll be at the coffee shop across the street, okay? Just meet me there.”

You enter the dark house, pushing away the heavy glass door to meet an empty room that was once where all the musical instruments stood proudly, all nice and shining as if no one has ever touched them before. You don’t know where they all went, but you did see the nice piano you saw Dojoon played once being dropped off in front of his house, but you could be wrong.

The TV is still there. Funny, you thought to yourself as you sit on the floor, just in front of the sofa. In the dark, or when you close your eyes; nothing seems different. It all feels like that one fateful day where you’re watching the TV before you see the back of the one person you’ve managed to ruin, the one person you haven’t apologized to.

You felt a tear escape the corner of your eyes as you look up to the static of the TV that is now playing a very low definition episode of Barney. 

 

Dojoon was not planning to go back to the music store,  _ ever _ , the vivid memory of when Woosung called him to mention that his grandma passed away in a voice just above the whisper any human can hear still haunts him to this day, but seeing that the gate was opened, his nostalgic mind can’t help but come back, face gloomy and heart heavy.

What he did not plan to see was  _ you _ , sitting on the front of the dark gigantic windows, a key in one of your hands while the other wipes your tear-stained cheeks. Your eyes are closed,  _ well _ \--not for long since you tried to breath in and out to calm yourself down before your eyelids flicker open, looking at the ground in front of you in shock since; there’s a person in front of you.

You jump onto your feet, scared and surprised but mostly; on your way to defend yourself.

When our eyes meet Dojoon’s, though, all of your weak defenses fall apart, and you find yourself sighing in relief.  _ Weird.  _ A few months ago, you would never find the word ‘calm’ in your dictionary when you’re faced with Park Dojoon; but you convinced yourself that people changed.

“H-hi,” a stutter. You hated yourself for it, not because it makes you look weak, but because you’re not fast enough with your words. Dojoon raises his eyebrows before humming, gave you a formal nod not a second after and just like that, he turns around, on his way to leave. “Dojoon,  _ wait _ , I-”

His shoulder froze on the spot. But he did not move. He didn’t turn around to try and look at you in the eye, he did nothing as your hand made its way to tap his shoulder, your fingers clinging to his shirt in an effort to make him turn around.

“I’m sorry-”

“I know.” He cuts you off, and you end up with your eyebrows knit together, not finishing your sentence from the sudden reply you didn’t even see coming. “What?” you whisper, not knowing how else you’re supposed to break the thin layer of ice surrounding the two of you right now. 

“I know you don’t  _ like  _ me. My whole family knows that; they all told me I shouldn’t hope for anything much, you know?” his eyes caught yours, and there’s something  _ so  _ painful in the way his voice shakes from the tears threatening to escape from the corners of his eyes.  _ You’re responsible for this.  _ “You know- I just thought… wow, all of those times when you look away when I looked at you must  _ mean  _ something, so I must not be the only one trying here, but-”

He sighs into his hand, trying his best to not completely break down.

“But I was wrong, wasn’t I? All of those feelings;  _ I felt all of those things by myself, don’t I? _ Tell me I’m wrong so I can just, let go-”

You shake your head, the panic returning in your gut and the familiar burning feeling on the edges of your brain lit you on fire. There’s some tears on the corners of your eyes now, too, mirroring Dojoon right in front of you as you let them slip down. “No, you’re not  _ alone _ , please listen to me,” you say, now desperate as you grab a hold of him; almost crushing him in your arms. You can’t make another  _ mistake.  _ You won’t.

“I’m sorry that I was scared, I- I said things I didn’t mean to say. There’s a lot of things that I need to be sorry for, with  _ you  _ especially, and right now I don’t think I have all the time in the world, but please,” you trail off, searching for his eyes. “Please know that I’m sorry for all of them. Please help me realize what I mean to you, and,” you stop once again, running your hands through his hair as Dojoon leans down to look into your eyes better.

“Please stay with me?”

 

There was silence before a cackle escaped Dojoon’s lips and all you did was stand there, eyes wide in shock with tear staining your cheeks. You held your own hand upon your heart, afraid that Dojoon has officially lost his mind.

It wasn’t.

It was a happy laugh, weirdly enough, and you can’t help but lift the corners of your mouth in half fear and relief.

“Was that a  _ confession _ ?”

Your right hand pushes him away, his playful laugh ringing through your ears he flails his arms around to catch you back into his arms. “And what if it  _ is _ , you’re still going to laugh at me? You dumb goof,” you tried your best to wriggle away from his arms, trying to wipe your tears away from your cheeks that are now tinted with a slight blush.

“No, no, it was cute,” Dojoon whines, and you cringe at it except for the fact that it actually succesfully made you calm down a little, stopped your struggles and lean back into his hug; noticing the rapid raise of heartbeats inside his chest. But you don’t think you can make fun of it, since all the scenarios would lead to him finding out that your own heartbeat is accelerating really fast, too.

“It was?” you ask, your voice small and unsure. It made Dojoon chuckle, the low vibration of his chuckle gave you the chills up your spine, and it pulls on your heart-strings a little bit. 

“ _ Of course it was _ ,” he replies, a big goofy smile decorating his face. But it’s not like you can see it. He’s not letting you see him past his cool-persona  _ yet.  _ Yet.

 

* * *

  
  
  


_ “Now can you give me a kiss, please?” _

_ “Gross.” _

 

_. _

 

**Author's Note:**

> this is mayhaps my first happy fic w a happy ending uwu  
> pls tell me if you like it bc im not so sure of myself w happy fics:(
> 
> HAPPY BIRTHDAY DOJOON<33


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